


Behind One Eye

by Loudest_Voice



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Daddy Issues, Depression, Dragon Gate - Freeform, Gen, Glamor Failure, Nightmares, One-Sided Family Reunion, Secret Identity, Time Travel, loss of appetite, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loudest_Voice/pseuds/Loudest_Voice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laslow doesn't know if he's afraid of being found out, or if he wants to be found out. It's just been so long since he's seen his family. </p><p>'Before Awakening' DLC with Laslow as Chrom-fathered Inigo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind One Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Direct sequel to [this oneshot.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6192110)

Asleep, Laslow isn’t Laslow. He never asks Odin and Selena if they’re still Odin and Selena when they go to bed, but he suspects that they aren’t. Maybe he just _likes_ to suspect that they aren’t because it would mean he’s less . . . less something. Less weak, or sentimental. Less alone.

He shouldn’t be hoping for Odin and Selena to be suffering as he does, but he is who he is. Even back home, back in his original timeline, mounting conflict and frequent skirmishes made him nervous, prone to nightmares, and needy. He’d entertained himself with girls - peasants, his comrades, pretty enemies, any girls. It’d driven his father to such annoyance. Laslow smiles when he thinks of it now.

Shame? He doesn’t know if Chrom ever felt anything quite that strong towards him.

“Why can’t you be different, Inigo?” Chrom asks in his dreams, more bluntly than he ever had in real life. In either timeline. “How can you be the way you are? Doesn’t it shame you that your sister is thrice the lord you’ll ever be?”

Laslow sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. The Nohrian sun, blinding even though it often fails to warm the tundra that houses Castle Krakenburg, has been somehow sunburning his face lately. Odin swears it’s because he’s not eating as well as he should, but Odin is a fool.

“You’re worrying Lord Xander.”

“Oh, jeez!” Laslow startles to his feet, exaggerating his reaction to Peri’s sudden appearance. But only a little. “You shouldn’t ever go around without your horse.” At least the horse is never so eerily silent.

“Lord Xander has enough to worry about besides you,” says Peri, unfazed. “Eat your lunch and make your jokes, at least when he’s at the dining table.”

“I’ll have you know I’m on a diet,” says Laslow, gesturing vaguely at himself. “Bulk is tacky.”

“Your cheeks are sunken in,” says Peri in her deceptively childish voice. “And your pauldron is loose. Fix yourself, or _I’ll_ fix you.”

Instinctive recoil at Nohr’s casual brutality aside, Laslow admits that Peri has a point. Lord Xander is a good man, as honorable as his tyrannous father allows him to be, and he doesn’t deserve a retainer that causes such trouble.

The only thing left to do is to put on a better mask. There are things in Nohr worth smiling about: the majestic mountains, the music that street musicians produce in the face of the country’s struggles, Princess Camilla’s fashion sense, Gunter’s subtly sarcastic remarks . . .

And there’s Selena, always too smart for Laslow’s nonsense. And Odin, cousin Odin, with all his dramatics.

* * *

 

The Dragon’s Gate puts Laslow on edge long before he recognizes the Southtown fields near Ylisse’s border.

“We shouldn’t be here, my lord,” he tells Xander.

But it’s too late. Sunlight glints off the shimmering bodies of those flickering enemies, tempting them to squeeze their eyes shut while they strike at them with arrows, swords, and shuriken. Laslow stays close to Lord Xander, taking refuge in the mighty umbrage of his dark sword.

“I see fighters to the east,” shouts Lord Xander. “We move towards them; perhaps they aren’t Hoshidan.”

Laslow knows they aren’t. He runs and invader through the belly, ducking away from one of those blasted ninja. A shuriken flies over his head. He turns, his sword moving in a wide arch. A fist catches his scapula and he whirls backward with a dancer’s fluidity, slamming his fist under a clubman’s chin.

“Laslow,” calls Lord Xander, “I see a healer among them. Approach her and ascertain they are not Hoshidan.”

It’s Aunt Lissa. Laslow would recognize that crinoline anywhere. He swears, moving to follow Lord Xander’s order at once. There’s only them, Lady Corrin, and Felicia. If anyone starts worrying that he’s injured or gone mad, it could be the death of them. As long as Aunt Lissa doesn’t stare directly into his eyes - and why would she? - Laslow should be fine. Unless they’ve landed at a point in the timeline where he and his friends have arrived in the past, and Aunt Lissa knows exactly who he is.

Laslow sidesteps an arrow, leaps forward and runs the archer through, putting the thought out of his mind. Just ahead, Frederick (how long has it been since he saw Frederick, by Naga’s light) is busy with a paired up set of ninja. Another has Aunt Lissa on sight.

“Watch out!” yells Laslow, a terrified thought for Odin rabbiting through his mind.

Lissa hears him but instead of turning her attention to the incoming ninja, she freezes.

Laslow’s heart tries to punch out of his chest. He runs faster, heedless of his shortening breath, and launches his sword at the ninja. It’s not a throwing weapon, but it draws the bastard’s attention. Laslow smirks despite the barrage of shuriken, ignoring the one that hits his shoulder. He throws a punch anyway, follows with another when the ninja dodges, bending his knees to try and sweep the enemy’s ankles.

The ninja is too agile and Laslow is unarmed. Blood pours out of his shoulder wound. By now, the ninja must have called reinforcements.

A horse brays, drawing the ninja’s attention. Frederick is upon them in an instant, his lance piercing the ninja’s chest. Laslow sinks on one knee and rips the shuriken from his shoulder wound, his eyes scanning the area for more enemies. There are always more.

“You alright?” asks Aunt Lissa, her voice pitched higher than he remembers. Healing magic floods into him, rushing to his shoulder wound and knitting it close.

She’s so much younger than he’s used to, never mind that he already fought a war with this younger Lissa. Will fight a war. Gods, it’ll never stop being confusing.

“Thanks,” he says, rising to his feet.

Frederick’s holding his own against the last ninja near them. Laslow seizes the opportunity to retrieve his sword, signaling Lissa to stay close.

* * *

 

Afterwards, Chrom insists that they share a crappy campside meal. Ever the diplomat, Lord Xander agrees. Or maybe it just took a couple of battles as a team for Chrom and Xander to fall in platonic love with each other. Privately, Laslow always mused that Xander and Chrom are very similar.

“You fight like a _beast,_ ” Aunt Lissa tells him. “I never saw anyone throw a sword before.”

“Well, I missed,” says Laslow, laughing. He’s a little alarmed at how easy the mirth comes.

“Yeah, but it’s your spirit that counts,” says Lissa, bouncing with such enthusiasm that her pigtails jiggle. “Not even Chrom would’ve thought of throwing his sword.”

“I saw an enemy doing it once,” says Laslow, stuck somewhere between elated and uncomfortable. It’s blasphemous to even think he might be . . . better than Chrom. At anything. In any way.

“You even look a little like him,” says Lissa.

“Huh?”

“Like Chrom.”

“Not . . .” _as much as Lucina_ , Laslow almost says. “I mean, not that much.”

“Come on,” says Lissa, punching his shoulder lightly. “How many people with blue hair do you know?”

Laslow blinks, stops breathing. He makes a half-aborted motion to touch his hair, thinks better of it, and looks towards Lord Xander. The prince is talking with Chrom and Frederick, shoulders as relaxed as Laslow has ever seen. Perhaps he’s just relieved to talk with people who think nothing of the name Nohr. Xander senses Laslow looking towards him, looks up, and nods.

“Wow, I actually saw you unclench there,” says Lissa.

“Huh--oh!” Laslow coughs. It’s not like he can say he’s relieved that his liege lord hasn’t seen his appearance magically change.

Thankfully, Lissa is a trusting. Laslow knows for a fact that she will look for the best in people until her dying day, so it's simple enough to hold a pleasant conversation with her. She takes his vague answers at face value, and her exuberance is downright mild when compared to Owain's.

Odin's. This meeting is chipping away at Laslow's act.

The thought helps him accept Lord Xander's announcement that they must retire. It's for the best. Laslow tries to make himself anonymous, confident that Chrom has no reason to directly address his new princely friend's servant - 

"Hey," says Chrom, forcing Laslow to meet his eyes. "I want to thank you personally for rushing to my sister's aid. I'm in your debt."

He looks younger than Laslow has ever seen him. Bordering hysteria, Laslow realizes that he might actually be older than Chrom.

"I-It's nothing," he says, grateful that Chrom is at least broader than him. "I only followed my liege's command."

"Regardless," says Chrom. "I'm in your debt."

Laslow nods, looking away as quickly as is polite. His eyes stings, and he'll not be able to explain it if he starts sobbing like lost child. He would have to make up some stupid story.

He's not back to himself until well after they've recrossed the Dragon's Gate. Nohr's tundra is a sight for sore eyes, which is confusing since he's just come from his original home.

"Your conduct was exemplary today," Lord Xander tells him when he asks to be excuse.

"I fight in your honor, my lord."

"You're always above reproach in the battlefield," dismisses Xander. "I meant your conduct afterwards. You managed not to make clumsy advances towards Prince Chrom's sister."

Laslow _feels_ his eyes bulging out of his head. The mere _idea_ of romancing his Aunt Lissa - Odin's _mother_ \- is . . . he has no words.

"Now that I know you're capable of treating ladies professionally," continues Xander, "I expect that you'll continue to do so."

"Of course, my lord," says Laslow, bowing. He flees immediately afterwards, wondering if should even mention this incident to Odin and Selena.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's](http://www.dynamicallyopposed.com/search/label/fire%20emblem) the Fire Emblem tag at my blog.


End file.
